


let me show you my appreciation (and my love)

by MoMoMomma



Series: Properties of Life [4]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Image, Body Worship, Fluff, M/M, Scars, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “You don’t have to go through the trouble.” Jacob murmurs but dips his head anyhow, their kiss just a touch softer than it usually is. “Really. It’s cute and it’s flattering but...s’not necessary.”“It absolutely is.” Rook counters. “My Omega’s been feeling a little unloved and I can’t let that slide.”





	let me show you my appreciation (and my love)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's a deleted scene! This got cut from the end of Chapter 9 of Oblivion for length purposes and to keep the chapters roughly around the same size. You don't need to re-read chapter 9 to understand what's going on here, though, it's mostly just some self-indulgent fluff <3

“Look at my Omega. Fuck, you’re so hot, you know that? What do you want? Tell me and it’s yours.”

Jacob shifts, looking uneasy for a second, but it fades as he nods sharply, like he’s making a decision in his head.

“On your back. Under me.”

“ _Fuck_ yes.” Rook moves, scrambles up into the truck and all but throws himself on his back in the interior. “Come on. Get on top of me.”

Jacob laughs, turns to face him with one hand planted on the truck bed, watching Rook arrange himself into something comfortable. Hopefully appealing. It takes him a few wriggles to figure out that’s not exactly possible at the moment and Jacob lifts one brow.

“Would you like to take off the big ass belt, Deputy Wylde?”

“Oh god, don’t call me that,” Rook mutters as he sits up, tears at his belt until he can gingerly set it aside. “You’re gonna make me knot up in my briefs.”

Jacob rumbles something, a little pleased, not quite the whine Rook knows he’s capable of but so appealing it doesn’t matter. He shifts, crawls into the bed and settles on top of his hips. Rook doesn’t bother laying back down just yet, shoving greedy hands under Jacob’s jacket to grip his hips and tip his head up for a kiss.

“You don’t have to go through the trouble.” Jacob murmurs but dips his head anyhow, their kiss just a touch softer than it usually is. “Really. It’s cute and it’s flattering but...s’not necessary.”

“It absolutely is.” Rook counters. “My Omega’s been feeling a little unloved and I can’t let that slide.”

Jacob snorts into the kiss, smothered slightly but loud enough Rook knows he was supposed to hear it.

“You sure settle fast into this Alpha thing.”

“I’m not the best. But I’ll try. I _am_ trying. Promise I’ll work on it.”

“Supposed there’s something to be said for rewarding good behavior.”

Rook growls, it catches in his throat and rumbles his chest under Jacob’s hands, prompting another amused grin as Jacob draws back. He drags his fingers up, forwards, until he can grip Jacob’s lapels and tug gently.

“Gonna take this off for me? Let me see all of you?”

“You can see what you need to while I’ve got it on,” Jacob mutters but sighs when Rook frowns. “Alright. Fine. Fuck, you’re a persistent pain in the ass.”

“Yes, I am.” Rook agrees happily, sliding his hands up until he can peel the shoulders back and off. “Now strip.”

Jacob complies, lays the jacket carefully to the side, and doesn’t meet his eyes when he sets himself back to rights. Rook wants to drag his attention from the horizon, force him to meet his gaze, but he doesn’t. Focuses instead on the expanse of skin bared atop him, all of it lit up by the LED of the lantern. 

His Omega’s body is a testament to the life he’s lived. First as a protector, a big brother taking blows for people he cared about, and then as a soldier. Putting his body through hell far from home. His skin is a patchwork of scars, some big and others heartbreaking small, like the old circular ones high on his forearm. 

Rook’s been around enough dumb college kids to know what it looks like when someone puts a cigarette out on skin. 

He leans forward, presses a kiss to the center of Jacob’s chest, just above the dog tags he won’t ever ask him to remove. Jacob makes a soft noise, not quite disgruntled but not relaxed enough to be a sigh. His fingers flex on Rook’s shoulders, clamping down like he doesn’t know what to do if he’s not holding on.

“Wanna tell me about any of them?” Rook asks softly, running fingers over a circle of bright white on Jacob’s thigh.

He’d know a gunshot wound anywhere. Jacob probably has a matching one on the other side, entrance and exit wounds. It was improperly treated, patched up on the go like so many war wounds are, and Rook wishes, for a moment, he could’ve been the medic for Jacob’s unit. He would have done a much better job, no matter how competent Jacob’s medics were. 

“Not sure where I’d start.”

“Can you--” Rook squeezes Jacob’s hips, tips his head up so he’s at least meeting Jacob’s eyes even if Jacob’s still stubbornly looking into the distance. “I know you wanted to be on top. It’s fine, I’m fine with it--hell, I love it. But could you--would you be alright laying down? I wanna see everything.”

He pauses, thinks for a moment, rubs small circles with his thumbs into the dip next to each hipbone.

“I promise I won’t get on top of you.”

Jacob grimaces, either because Rook figured out there’s more to the whole “let me on top” thing than Jacob really wanted him to know or because the idea doesn’t appeal. He’s almost ready to take it back, tell Jacob he’s perfectly fine where he is, maybe throw in a line about how he’s going to soak through Rook’s pants and he’s going to spend the rest of the night smelling him and god--wouldn’t that just be the perfect shift?

But Jacob clears his throat, nods without speaking like he thought better of it, and moves.

Rook hurries to spread Jacob’s jacket on the truck bed before he can lay down, wishing for a blanket or something to keep the chill of the metal off him. Jacob looks uncomfortable, feet planted on the bed, knees tipped together to hide the softest parts of him as his hands splay over his stomach. Rook sidles up to his side, on his knees, moving the lantern just a bit closer until Jacob nails him in place with a glare and a snarled “enough.”

“Okay, okay,” Rook lifts his palms away from the lantern, the light coming off it more than enough where it is. “Thank you, I just--thank you.”

“Get over here.”

Jacob lifts a hand, snags him by the nape and tugs him in until Rook’s bracing himself with a hand on either side of his head, groaning into the kiss. It’s almost too much, the scent of Jacob--gunpowder stronger, just like it is when he’s angry--swirling in his head until he nearly forgets everything. Forgets his desire to give Jacob his knot in a place better than the bed of a truck on a river bank. Forgets his plan for the light and Jacob’s body and proving to him that no matter what that insidious little voice in the back of his head says, Rook loves every part of him, scarred or not. 

But he can’t. He draws back, growls at Jacob’s soft whine of discontent, and noses against his throat. His fingers trail down Jacob’s chest, over the cool metal of his dog tags, catching and finding bits of skin that are raised or not quite as smooth as others. 

“I got...ah...got a lot of ‘em from the fire,” Jacob says haltingly, like he’s trying out the words as he speaks. “Especially the ones on my back. And my face. Was gonna--thought I might burn up in there.”

“You were in a fire?” Rook asks softly, shifting down until he can nuzzle up to the warped skin, lips gentle when he presses them to the wounds. 

“Yeah, I--when we were young. Me and Joseph and John. Got adopted by this family and found out the grass wasn’t always greener. John was gonna die of exhaustion and Joseph just looked so broken and I--they worked us like fucking dogs. Every single fucking day. Made us sleep in the barn. So one night, I--uh--woke them up. Sent Joseph and John outside, told them I was done, was done watching these fucking people try and destroy them. And I set the thing on fire.”

Rook can’t swallow back the snarl, hands flexing on the metal of the bed. Jacob pets a hand through his hair, shifts, one foot sliding down to lay his leg flat. Rook can see where the scarring starts on his sides, probably covers a good portion of his back. The extent means the wounds were pretty damn bad and something in his chest aches as he kisses along the line of once melted flesh. 

“Did you want to burn?”

“Maybe. Little, yeah.” Jacob admits softly, tugging Rook until he’s resting his chin on his ribs. “Glad I didn’t though. Wouldn’t have this if I had.”

“What about this one?” Rook asks through a curiously tight throat, something pricking in the back of his eyes as he trails his fingers over a particularly sharp looking line near Jacob’s hip. 

“Knife in...fuck--Iraq? Kuwait? Somewhere over there. Forget where I was a lot of the time.”

“Wish I could’ve been there with you.” Rook murmurs, shifting until he can press his mouth against it, slowly kissing over the thin but brutally deep line. 

Jacob laughs, too rough to be true but amused nonetheless. Keeps his hand in Rook’s hair as he works over the scar. 

“You would’ve fucking hated me. I was a pain in the ass, too cocksure. Had a few notes in my file about bucking against asshole Alphas who thought their knot meant they could order me around.”

“To be fair,” Rook points out with a grin against the twisted skin. “I probably would’ve been the one being ordered around. Medic, y’know?”

“Shit.” Jacob lifts his free hand, other leg sliding down to relax as he grinds a palm into his eye with a grin. “Can’t even fucking imagine the wreck I’d’ve been with you there. Probably would’ve actually gone to the medic tent a little more often than I did. Would’ve done something fucking stupid eventually--offer to suck you off or something.”

He snorts, actually amused this time, lifting his head to look down at Rook.

“Probably would’ve had to be that blunt. Oblivious little fuck.”

“I’m pretty sure,” Rook argues with a spreading grin, “that I would’ve gotten the point if you’d have stood in front of me and asked to blow me. I’m not _that_ bad.”

“You really are, Rook.”

“Of course,” Rook continues, ignoring Jacob’s laughter. “You might not have gotten the chance. A big bad soldier like you offering up something like that? Would’ve knotted up in my BDU’s before you got the chance.”

“Flatterer.”

Jacob’s mouth evens out, back to a firm line, and he seems to consider something before letting his head thump back.

“Y’can sit between my legs. Gonna fuck up your back leaning over me like this.”

Rook doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. Jacob wouldn’t offer if he wasn’t, would plant a foot in his chest and physically remove him if he didn’t want him there. He moves carefully, telegraphing each shift of his body, until he’s kneeling between Jacob’s thighs, clamped tight on either side of him like he can’t quite relax but he doesn’t want Rook going anywhere. 

Jacob’s right, the view is better. Rook can see everything, the scars on Jacob’s sides that probably spread onto his back, every little dip and white patch of skin. All the more angry, irritated keloids from injuries that never healed quite right. 

And he’s not wrenching his back so badly he’ll have to make up an excuse to the Sheriff about falling off Sharky’s roof or something. Not that he would have minded...but Earl has particular ways of just staring him down until Rook breaks and admits everything in a flurry of words. 

“Oh.” He says softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leans down, one hand on Jacob’s hip as he presses his mouth to familiar looking lines at the Omega’s sides. “You have stretch marks.”

“Yeah,” Jacob shifts under him, “didn’t have much meat on my bones as a kid. Three square meals in juvie put weight on pretty fast. And they cram food into you in basic so you can turn it into muscle.”

“Well, what do you know?” Rook drags his tongue soft over one, makes Jacob’s hands flex where they’re buried back in his hair. “That’s perfectly normal.”

A broken sort of whine cuts the air, Jacob’s hips lifting and hands pulling. It’s more than Rook wanted, wanted this to be all about Jacob and showing him he loved every inch of him, whether it turned sexual or not. But he’s not complaining in the slightest. He moves down, over, breaths against the thick jut of Jacob’s cock. Jacob hitches a breath, slow and soft, when Rook strokes his tongue down the length of it.

He’s scarred close to here too. A thin white line over one hip. A starburst of past pain on the opposite side, close enough to his stomach it makes Rook shiver and go cold inside at what might have been. 

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that?”

“I’m scarred to hell and back and I’ve got a shit attitude.” Jacob grunts, but he doesn’t yank Rook away from the sucking wet kisses he’s raining down over his hips. “You’ve got some low standards.”

“Eventually I’ll get you to believe me.” Rook shifts down, wriggles until he’s laying between Jacob’s thighs, pressing his hips into the metal. “Until then? I will enjoy convincing you.”

“Such a pain in the ass.” Jacob grouses.

Rook ignores him, tracing gentle fingers over the marks he finds. There aren’t as many on Jacob’s legs as there are on his torso and arms, probably protected by jeans or fatigues most of the time. He finds a small scratch on the back of one calf, Jacob murmuring an amused “sometimes we’d climb the trees to pick peaches. And sometimes the branches didn’t always wanna hold my weight.” Rook puts his mouth to every one he stumbles upon, never asking for the story behind it but worshipping it nonetheless.

Jacob’s twitching under him by the end of it, clawing at his shoulders until Rook lifts himself onto his hands and knees, careful not to seem like he’s pinning Jacob down. There’s a sort of softness to his eyes, a little overstimulated going by the flush of red in his cheeks, but he yanks Rook into a kiss anyhow.

“Too fucking good to me.” He bites into Rook’s mouth, fierce, like an animal scared and lashing out because it’s the only thing it knows how to do. “Too fucking good _for_ me.”

“I can start from the bottom and work my way up again,” Rook warns lightly, forcing Jacob to soften the kisses by drawing back, parting their mouths between each one. “Eventually either I’ll break your arguments or you’ll kick me outta the truck bed and go home. Either way, I get to know my Omega’s happy and safe so...up to you.”

Jacob rolls his eyes but his mouth gentles against Rook’s, hands sliding from his hair to cup around the nape of his neck, fingers intertwined. His legs part just a touch more, knees clamping down on either side of Rook’s hips. Rook wriggles in place with a grin. 

“So...I take it you’re not kicking me out of the truck?”

“Was gonna try to convince you to change that hard stance on not knotting me anywhere but a bed.” Jacob drawls, a lightness to his eyes lit up by the shine of the lantern. 

Rook’s hips jerk forwards before he can stop it, breath escaping his lungs in the form of a deep growl. He buries his face into Jacob’s throat, cautiously lowers his hips until he can grind forwards with just enough pressure to make Jacob’s nails bite into the back of his neck. 

“I told you, you deserve better. I can’t--”

“I know, I know.” Jacob shushes him, lifts one hand to run it down his spine over the uniform. “Know you can’t make a mess of your pretty Deputy uniform too.”

“I can’t.” Rook grumbles--he’s really got to get himself a spare to stash in the cruiser from now on. “But...I mean, I’ve already spent all this time doing a little body worship. What’s to say it’s gotta stop just because there’s a smile on your face now?”

“Only Alpha I’ve ever met so eager to suck someone off.” Jacob marvels as Rook slips from his grasp and shimmies back down between his thighs, tossing them over his shoulders.

“I’m not like other Alphas.”

“No,” Jacob murmurs, head tipping down for a split second before it thunks back onto the bed at the first wet stroke of Rook’s tongue. “Thank fucking God for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see the plans for Kinktober? Make sure to check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
